The dreams. People chasing me. It wasn’t in my head. I stared at the solid proof that it was real. I couldn’t go back home. I needed to keep running. Move. I eyed the money. I wasn’t about to use the phone to call that number, but the money...I’ll be taking that, thank-you-very-much!
Wasting no time, I gathered my things. At least, I’d showered and slept. Looking around to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything, I spotted stationary on the bedside table. The pen lay beside it. Lifting the pad to the light, I saw the indentations of the phone number that had been in my pocket. Of course, I already knew someone had been in my room but seeing the used pad of paper gave me the shakes again.
Run!
I didn’t look back.
Chapter Three
When I stepped outside the hotel, the chilled air slapped some sense into me; and I schooled my terror-filled expression. I couldn’t doubt myself any longer. Not even slightly. The dreams had continued after my discovery for a reason. I had lifetimes of wisdom in me. I just needed to remember it all. Remembering would help me survive. But to remember, I needed a safe place to sleep...I needed a lot of it. Where though? A public place would be good. A place where moaning in my sleep wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary. Somewhere low cost. A homeless shelter? I’d never been to one in real life and hoped they offered beds like in the movies.
Decided, I hailed a cab. The driver let me know about an overflow shelter where I’d have the best luck in winter months. After showing the cabbie I could pay, he took me there but dropped me off a few blocks away. I didn’t think it would look good if I arrived there in a taxi.
I managed two nights before I admitted to myself I’d made the wrong decision. All of the dreams—each memory—depicted hellish nightmares of brutal past deaths, further driving into me the need to run. I still didn’t have a destination. I just needed to keep moving. They were closing in. I would die.
Though I’d slept every chance I got, it felt like I’d stayed awake since I left the hotel. Hyped up on caffeine, I caught another bus. This time going south. I didn’t pay attention to the destination, nor did I make small talk with sweet old ladies.
On the outside, anyone looking at me would see a calm, sleepy girl. Inside, I twitched and jittered; I moaned and cried as I remembered all the slow tiny cuts from the night before. It had taken a week to die. In that dream, they hadn’t meant to kill me...her...us...whoever. A past version of one of the others like me had pretended to be more alert and resilient than she had actually been. When they’d realized they’d gone too far, it’d been too late.
The ride left me in a small town with no motel.
I cast my eyes in every direction trying to decide my next move when I spotted an old iron support bridge just down one of the side roads. Its metal skeleton blended with the leafless branches on the banks surrounding it. Trudging in that direction, I kept alert for someone following me.
Since staying at the shelter, something had changed. The sleep-inducing memories pulled at me even while awake. The pull had an edge to it. It wouldn’t be denied for long. I needed a power nap. Thirty minutes tops, I promised myself.
I checked for cars before I stepped off the road and made my way into the ravine that the bridge spanned. The wooden decking provided covering but didn’t make a good shelter due to the gaps. Crushed stone had once covered the embankment. Weeds and other growth concealed much of it now. The dry winter vegetation snapped in the quiet as I headed under the bridge and picked a spot where most of the rocks were still exposed.
Peeling off my hoodie, I lay down. The rocks and cold wouldn’t allow for a deep sleep. The waiting dream pulled me under before I lay my head on my arm.
I immediately merged with the past.
In this dream, I was myself, or at least a past version of myself, and remembered the man standing before me. He had been responsible for my death twice in the same cycle. He looked much older now.
“This time, we’re going to do things a little differently.” He motioned for two of his men to step forward. “Hold her, and open her mouth.”
One man stepped behind me, grasping my already bound arms. Another man gripped my jaw roughly and pressed his fingers inward until I opened my mouth.
My face ached. His fingers left bruises on my skin but I showed no fear, no pain. I had remembered him. I remembered everything. This, however, was new and I wondered what he had in mind.
He motioned for another to join our little group.
This man I’d never seen before. Something about him pulled me, and I felt certain it wasn’t good. His eyes roamed over me from head to feet, lingering in any place that caught his interest.
“Her scent is perfect.”